“I shall wait for your return.”
“... You will wait.”
“Yes; perhaps I shall go to sleep in this chair.”
“Are your hands hot, Alberto?”
“No; feel them.”
“Pain in your chest?”
“Nothing of the sort, only slight stitches in the sides, automatic stitches, as the doctor calls them. What are you thinking of? Don’t you see that I am better? Yesterday, I coughed eighteen times; this morning, seventeen; I’m improving.”
“Alberto mio, may health be yours!”
“Yes, yes, I shall get as strong as Andrea! I sent for him this morning, but he never came. He is out in all sorts of weather. Lucky dog!”
She stood listening, with hanging arms and downcast eyes.